Mail Call
by dart53
Summary: This is intended to be a repository for 'short shots' that don't really have a home of their own. Each chapter should stand alone (if it doesn't I'll let you know). Some may be serious, some may be silly…. Like that 'box a chocolates' you never know what you're gonna get. Enjoy, Dale
1. Chapter 1

"Here", Actor coaxed. "Drink this."

"This shtuff shtinks."

"I know. I'm sorry that it isn't up to your usual standards." The cup was offered again.

The patient took a sip and turned a jaundiced eye on his ministering angel. "You gonna reshpect me ina mornin'?"

"Of course." The Italian smiled and raised the man on one arm and tipped his head into the waiting cup again. "Finish this for me now."

The body went limp in his arms and he laid the prostrate form out on the pallet they'd made of the blankets they found at the safe house. He rolled back his sleeves. "Very well; let us begin."

"You sure?"

The con man pressed the tip of the sharp blade into the man's thigh and checked for a response. Other than a discordant snore the patient lay still. "Yes, I am quite sure."

"He's going to have one Hell of a headache in the morning." Garrison observed.

The group's medic looked up with a quick confident smile and shrugged. "It will take his mind off his leg."


	2. Chapter 2

Garrison was bruised and battered, a condition not all that uncommon for him at the end of a mission. This time it wasn't bad but he was having a hard time finding a comfortable spot so that he could get some rest. Chief watched him change position again. The young man picked up a dusty stiff pillow from the corner where some previous occupant had thrown it. He stepped carefully across the creaking old floor, leaned down and quietly offered it to his commander. "Here, try this," he offered in a low tone.

"Thanks." The Warden didn't bother with it to rest his head on. Turning onto the side that had the fewest bruises he tucked it against his chest and draped an arm over it. Finding some relief he finally drifted off to sleep.

The door opened a few moments later and Casino, finished with his turn on watch, stepped into the one room shack. Greeting Chief with a silent nod he turned his attention to his three companions slumbering on the floor in front of the derelict fireplace. Goniff was tucked into a ball like a cat. Actor, as fastidious as he could be given the surroundings, had shaken out a tattered old curtain to lay on so that he wasn't actually sleeping on the floor. Garrison, curled on his side, had his arms wrapped around a ratty old pillow.

He turned a smile back on his younger teammate. "We need to get the Warden a teddy bear," he observed, his voice just above a whisper. "You good?"

Chief nodded his head. "I'm good."

Casino carefully opened the door and stepped back outside. It was actually Garrison's turn but, hey, it was only another couple of hours before the contact would be there to take them out to the boat. Might as well let the guy sleep. Besides, even though he'd never admit it, he kind of liked watching the sun come up.


	3. Chapter 3

They heard a muffled crack and a raised voice coming from behind the closed door across the hall. Since the language that went with the voice wasn't English they weren't exactly sure what was being said, but it wasn't good; they could tell that by the tone.

"You goin' in?" Chief asked.

"I'm not goin' in." Casino replied with a shake of his head and turned the question back on his young teammate. "You goin' in?"

Before the debate could escalate the door opened with a creak. Garrison stood in the opening. He was leaning on one hand that had a white-knuckle grip on the framework, the other clutched his knee. His features were pale and there was a slight sheen of sweat starting across his forehead. He managed one halting step towards them.

Casino and Chief got up and went across the hall to him. Each of them took an arm and slipped it over their shoulder. They carefully maneuvered the Lieutenant away from the door and back over to the fireplace. They settled him a chair that flanked the hearth and Chief carefully lifted his left leg up to rest on an ottoman. While they were doing that Goniff made his way to the cabinet in the corner of the room and back.

With a bottle poised over a glass the little cockney asked. "You want one finger, or two Warden?"

Garrison, who was leaned back in the wingback chair with his eyes closed, raised his hand; three stiffened fingers pointed skyward.

Casino gave a snort, Goniff's eyebrows rose to meet his hair but he shrugged and poured the measure and placed the glass in the Warden's hand. Garrison took the glass and, eyes still closed and without ceremony, knocked the liquor back in one swallow. He held the tumbler aloft for a refill. The three men standing around the chair shared a look and, rolling his eyes, the little burglar took the glass from their commander's hand to comply with the silent order.

Garrison finally opened his eyes, hiked himself back in the chair and sat forward to take a sip from his refill. "I'm going to kill that thing," he told them over the rim of his glass. "I'm going to take it out on the firing range and kill it."

"Blimey! That don't seem exactly fair, now does it?" the little cockney protested with a grin as he gathered up glasses for the three of them.

"Yeah!" the group's safecracker agreed. "It's you keeps doin' it."

Chief nodded his agreement. "You only got yourself to blame, man."

The chime of the neck of the bottle hitting the rim of the glass as Goniff filled the tumblers the others held was joined by their con man's deep voice.

"What has happened?"

Casino took a sip of the whisky and watched as the Italian made his way into the room. "What d'you think?"

The older man sighed and shook his head. "Goniff, go and get some ice, please." He ordered, taking charge.

"Blimey! The Warden don't ruin good whisky with ice, mate!" the group's pickpocket protested.

The look Actor turned on him was pinched and pained.

Goniff dipped his chin and then grinned around at the others. "Oh! Right!" He placed the bottle within Garrison's reach on the table next to the chair, and took off for the kitchen below.

Actor surveyed the Lieutenant's leg. The fabric over the knee was creased but clean. "You do not appear to have broken the skin," he observed, without adding '_this time'_ which was on the tip of his tongue.

"He's planning on killin' the desk down on the firing range." Casino informed the con man.

"The desk?" The Warden asked. "Who said anything about the desk!? It's that new chair!" He just managed to avoid wincing as Actor applied the ice pack Goniff had just delivered to his knee. "I think that thing has it in for me."

"That's a beautiful chair." The Italian pronounced. "I don't understand why you are having so much difficulty getting used to it.

"It moves too fast." Garrison was adamant. "I had to work at pushing the other one around. This new one just….shoots across the floor. And it spins at the drop of a hat." And this time he did wince as the pack was adjusted, "And I end up ramming my knee into every corner in that damned office."

Actor accepted the tumbler of whisky Goniff held out to him as they laughed at their commander. "Well, perhaps Mr. Morley could remove the wheels… Possibly that would make it a little safer for you."

The Warden took another sip of the whisky and swallowed a groan along with the liquor as he removed the numbing ice and started to massage his battered kneecap. "If it just wasn't the same one all the time…."


End file.
